


Simple Days

by jesterlady



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Holidays, One Shot, Romance, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-03
Updated: 2011-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-24 06:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterlady/pseuds/jesterlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow and Oz on Valentine's Day</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple Days

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own BTVS.

“What are we going to do?” Willow asked him for the fifth time. “You’re being all secretive.”

“I’m hoping you’ll find it cute,” Oz answered.

“You hope that everything you do I’ll find cute,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Pretty much,” he agreed. “We’re here.”

Normally on the Hellmouth, a lonely spot in the woods was not someplace that you wanted to go. But, Willow thought, as she entered a  
small clearing on a sunny, bright afternoon, today might be different. The sun was shining and a small stream ran chattering in the  
background. The trees stood tall, reaching for the sky and proud of it. The grass was perfectly green and a blanket covering the ground, with  
a full picnic basket on it and a bouquet of flowers beside, were just the finishing touches she needed to be completely at ease, even on the  
Hellmouth.

“Oz,” she squealed, “this is so amazing! What a special Valentine’s thing! I can’t believe what you did. Why’d you do it?”

“Check out a mirror sometime,” was his reply as he led her toward the blanket. “We got chicken or tuna here,” he said pulling out the  
contents of the basket. “Not the gourmet I used to be, but I can do sandwiches. Joyce made us some punch and I got some of the muffins you  
like from the Espresso Stop.”

“It’s so unbelievably what I wanted,” she told him, taking both a chicken and tuna from the selection he offered her. “We should just  
drink from the stream,” she suggested randomly, “like…rabbits.”

“Well, I’m not averse to trying,” he agreed, sounding amused.

“Actually, I think I read somewhere that it’s not very sanitary. On the Hellmouth too many of the victims end up in the drink,” she  
said solemnly.

“Let’s try and forget you said that,” Oz replied, looking at his sandwich with a little less excitement.

“Sorry,” Willow murmured. He leaned over and linked their hands together.

“Don’t apologize for being you. It’s not the sandwich I’m here for.”

Willow blushed and looked down.

“Good, because I wouldn’t want you to be here for it. Not that you can’t enjoy it while you’re here, but it’s nice that you can also  
enjoy other things and maybe even more, since they’re enjoying you too.”

“There’s my Will,” he said and took a bite. They ate and talked and laughed and enjoyed.

After the meal, as Willow leaned back against a tree holding her stomach, Oz reached into the picnic basket again and took out a slim  
volume and handed it to her. Willow sat straight up and hit him in her excitement.

“It’s it! It’s that book, that book, and I wanted it and it’s it!”

“Definitely it,” he agreed. “Wanna read it?”

“As if that wasn’t answered five minutes ago,” she said enthusiastically. They settled down and Willow lay on her back, listening to  
Oz’s soothing voice reading out the words to one of her favorite new books. She felt drowsy and perfect as the sun shone overhead and the  
sounds of the wood echoed around her and her boyfriend lay beside her.

Slowly, she came to the realization that Oz had stopped. Looking over, she noticed that he was asleep. Gently, she moved closer to  
him and drifted off herself.

Awhile later, Willow woke with a jerk as she felt something cold and wet. Opening her eyes, she realized that the sunny day had passed  
and that a storm had fallen upon Sunnydale. She and Oz were soaked.

“Your book,” he said immediately upon waking. They gathered everything and ran to the cover of the trees. It was much dryer there  
under the canopy. As Oz had feared, the book was wet and soggy.

“I’m sorry, Will, I didn’t think we’d get the usual Sunnydale weather switch.”

“It’s okay,” she soothed him. “One of the advantages of being me.”

She closed her eyes and slowly breathed in and then gently blew on the book. A wave of simple motion swept over it and when Oz had  
blinked, the book was completely dry and whole again. He put it in the picnic basket where it would be safe.

“I don’t suppose you could do the same for us,” he teased. Willow shook her head.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she asked as she put her arms around him and felt his lips on hers, in the deep of the wood, on Valentine’s  
Day, with the rain cascading around them.


End file.
